shadowed in the dark carriage.
“The emerald purchases weren’t meant to drive up the market,” Jasnah
explained. “They were a pay-off—a way for Nanavah to transfer a large
amount of money to the assassins without drawing attention to herself,
and without having to delve into her own pockets. Ironically, my brother
funded his own assassination.”
“But why, my lady?” Nelshenden said, shaking his head. “She has power,
she has rank, and she has the king’s ear. Killing him accomplishes nothing.”
“Unless she wishes another to take his place,” Jasnah said. “A lover no
one—not even women of court—has discovered.”
“Who?” Nelshenden asked with a frown.
“Meridas,” Jasnah said.
Kemnar frowned. “That’s a stretch, my lady.”
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“Is it?” Jasnah asked. “He’s now a Parshen, and betrothed to the king’s sister. That’s not a large step away from the throne.”
Kemnar sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Not a stretch to believe,” he
finally admitted, “but a stretch to prove. We have had no hint of an affair.”
“We’ll find one tonight,” Jasnah said.
Kemnar looked appreciative. “Assuming you’re right, they’d have to get
rid of you after they kill the king. They’ll probably wait a short time—a
year or so. With you out of the way, Nanavah and Meridas could make
their union official.”
“My lady,” Nelshenden said. “We should not be acting on this alone. I
repeat my objection from before—we should bring your concerns to the
king. It is the proper way.”
“That’s very honorable of you, Nelshenden,” Jasnah replied. “But you just
pointed out that Nanavah has the king’s ear. What proof do I have? Some
figures in a ledger? Speculation? We need more.”
Nelshenden did not look satisfied. “You should not have come, my lady.”
“You know me better than that, Nelshenden,” she replied. “Don’t
worry—I’ll remain in the carriage until the assault is finished.”
“Yes,” Nelshenden said as the carriage pulled to a stop, “but we’ll have
to leave men behind to protect you.”
He and Kemnar hopped out of the vehicle, landing quietly on the street.
Jasnah had given orders to stop a block from the Channal guildhouse.
As her men made their preparations, a stern face approached her carriage
window. Lord Zenach, second captain of her brother’s personal guard, was
an aging man she couldn’t remember ever having seen smile. His reputation
for sobriety was legendary—only Nelshenden could have convinced him
to agree to such a clandestine operation. His eyes, however, warned that
he would go no farther without good cause.
“We’re here, my lady,” he said in an even, but unyielding, voice. “Now
you will tell me what this is about.”
“There is a group of assassins posing as merchants in that building,
captain,” Jasnah explained. “They have a contract on the king.”
“This is about Lord Jezenrosh?” the captain asked, eyeing the dark
building.
“You’ve heard about that?” Jasnah asked.
Zenach looked back at her. “Yes.”
“You take the threat seriously.”
“It is my duty to take all threats seriously,” the man replied. He strode
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 283
away to confer with Nelshenden and Kemnar. A few moments later, Kemnar
and four men retreated to the carriage, surrounding it, Jasnah, and the four pullers in a loose circle. The other twenty-five men drew their weapons and approached the building, splitting into three groups.
Overhead, the stars sat in stoic regard, most of them concentrated in
an enormous cluster the monks called the Dwelling. They gave little light
this day—the Dwelling was low on the horizon—and Jasnah quickly lost
sight of her men in the darkness. Then, all was still. Seconds passed as
heartbeats, then gathered into minutes which pulled on her nerves like
weights on a string.
Finally, a group of three men returned from the building; one was
Nelshenden. Jasnah didn’t wait—she climbed from the carriage and
approached him with a rushed step.
“The guildhouse was empty,” the guard said. “They cleaned out, taking
all of their gear. Only one watchman stayed behind.”
“You captured him?” Jasnah asked hopefully.
“Barely,” Nelshenden said. “He had a trapdoor out the back. Zenach
caught him.”
“Take me to him,” Jasnah ordered.
“I don’t know anything!” the man exclaimed. “I’m just a scratch!”
“What’s a scratch?” Jasnah asked, turning toward Kemnar.
“A local man,” Kemnar explained. “Hired from outside the organization
to provide experience in the region.”
Jasnah nodded. Two lanterns showed that Nelshenden had been right—
the building was empty. The rooms had been stripped of all ornamentation
and personal effects, leaving behind only a few tables and chairs, one
of which held the prisoner. He was a wiry, nondescript man, and his
nervousness seemed a little too exaggerated.
Kemnar approached the assassin, leaning down with a threatening look.
Jasnah watched with folded arms, Nelshenden and Zenach standing beside
her. The room’s only other occupants were the two lantern-bearing soldiers.
“You do know something,” Kemnar said, drawing his knife. The well-
made steel—created from an Awakened alloy to be stronger than regular
metals—glistened in the lanternlight. It was a stabbing weapon, designed
to get through the faceplate of a Shardbearer.
“I swear by the Tenth Name of the Almighty,” the assassin whispered,
cowering. “They didn’t tell me anything.”
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Kemnar leaned down closer, putting the tip of the weapon against
the man’s neck. “I realize this isn’t a group one betrays lightly,” Kemnar whispered. “But they’re not here. I am.”
The point of the weapon drew blood.
“Kemnar!” Nelshenden said. “You are not to hurt him!”
Kemnar sighed, standing and shooting a dry look at Nelshenden. He
stepped back to Jasnah, speaking in a quiet voice. “He is going to make this very difficult, my lady.”
“We must follow Sheneres,” Nelshenden said. “We have nothing if we have not honor.”
“Nelshenden,” Jasnah said. “This assassin has knowledge that might save
our king’s life.”
“Better we risk the king than betray our souls, my lady,” Nelshenden said.
The words were not spoken lightly—his eyes bore a weight of decision. “If
we follow what is right, the Almighty will see us to victory.”
The Almighty, Jasnah thought. Wonderful.
Kemnar turned, eyeing the prisoner. “He’s no simple scratch,” Kemnar
said. “He puts on a good show, but a group like this wouldn’t hire someone they didn’t think was trustworthy—and able to withstand a little torture. I can probably break him, but it will take time. Maybe days.”
Kemnar paused, eyeing the captive, then turned back. “The thing is,
my lady, we might not have days. There are only two reasons the assassins
would have abando
ned this building. Either they thought they’d been
discovered, or the assassination is planned for tonight.”
“You think they would attack the king in the middle of a dueling com-
petition?” Nelshenden asked skeptically. “Do you have any idea how many
Shardbearers there are in the palace right now?”
“Blades and Plate don’t protect against a knife in bed, Nelshenden,”
Kemnar said. “Besides, half the palace has drunk themselves silly. I doubt most of those Shardbearers even remember their own names right now.”
Zenach swore quietly, breaking his silence. “He’s right, my lady,” he said.
“Those palace guards who weren’t on duty participated in the duels, and
with all the Shardbearers around, we let a good number of them off. We’re
as understaffed as you’ll ever find us.”
“Then we have to assume that the king is in danger,” Jasnah said.
“Captain, take your men and mine and return to the palace as quickly
as possible. I want you to gather every guard and Shardbearer you can to
protect the king. My captains and I will stay here and see what we can
gather from the captive. We’ll join you if we discover anything.”
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 285
Zenach’s only response was a curt nod. His two men put down the
lanterns, and all three were out the door in a matter of seconds. Jasnah
remained, Kemnar and Nelshenden beside her, regarding the captive.
Kemnar was right—they didn’t have days to wait. They may not even have
minutes.
There was a way. The thought entered Jasnah’s head idly, then refused to
leave. She could place a stress upon this man’s soul that no simple physical torture could equal.
No! Jasnah thought, I will find another way.
But what? Even if she persuaded Nelshenden to let the torture progress,
it was unlikely they would discover any information in time.
She could make him break. There was one thing every Rosharan feared
more than threats, more than pain. She resisted the option, but it would not depart her mind. She kept thinking of Elhokar—a man who was, to her,
little more than a boy trying so hard to be king. What was more important?
His life? Her soul?
“Nelshenden,” Jasnah said quietly, holding out her hand, “give me a
gemstone.”
“My lady?” Nelshenden asked with surprise.
“Do it!” she said.
The soldier quietly pulled open his money pouch, selecting a gem and
placing it in her hand. The ruby was covered with a light glass glaze
and stamped with the seal of Alethkar, declaring it to be worth fifty
Ishmarks. As soon as the stone touched her hand, Jasnah could hear its
Tone. The note sounded powerfully in her ears, even through the glass.
Could she do it? What would Kemnar and Nelshenden think if they
knew? Like monks, Awakeners were required to forsake wealth and privi-
lege—but unlike monks, Awakeners were also ostracized. Removed from
their families, feared, shut away. They were strange, inhuman creatures. Their arts changed them. People whispered that Awakening didn’t just change
them—it stole their souls. It took from them their humanity.
Jasnah closed her eyes, and held up the ruby. If she concentrated, she
could hear another sound coming from within her—her Soul Tone.
Unlike the ruby, her Soul Tone didn’t give off a simple note—it produced
a brilliant, vibrating cord. It was her own unique harmonic, usually so quiet she couldn’t hear it.
She reached out with her Soul Tone, the familiar chord growing louder
somehow, though she knew she didn’t hear it with her physical ears. She
took the Soul Tone, and touched it against the ruby, stroking its Tone like
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a finger upon the strings of an instrument. Her Soul Tone gave strength
to the ruby’s music, amplifying it, making its pure, solitary note grow in force and strength.
The ruby shivered in her hand. It began to vibrate with a soft hum that
would be audible even to non-Awakener ears.
She heard Nelshenden gasp. She opened her eyes as the vibrating
gemstone shattered its glass glazing. The gem began to glow with a pure
red light, rising into the air above her hand, illuminating the room with a faceted rubicon glow.
The prisoner watched mutely, eyes widening. Then he screamed, strug-
gled against his bonds, pul ing ineffectually against the ropes tying his arms and legs to the chair. Gone was his false anxiety and overdone cowering.
“Speak,” Jasnah ordered, holding her hand forward, the gemstone
vibrating and spinning above it.
“I know nothing!” the man screamed.
Jasnah turned her hand to the side, palm facing toward the far wall,
the ruby spinning and glowing before it. She nudged the ruby with a
stroke of her mind, flipping it through the air toward the room’s lone table.
The gemstone struck the wooden table, shattering into a shower of red dust, transferring its vibration to the wood itself.
The strike sounded loudly, like a sharp pop, within Jasnah’s mind. She
grabbed ahold of the table’s Tone—a chord far less complex than that of
a living creature. Normally, non-gems had Tones far too weak to notice,
but the ruby’s explosion brought the table’s Tone to life like a bell suddenly struck by an iron rod.
Jasnah held tightly to the table’s Tone, which vibrated irregularly, its
own Tone struggling against that of the ruby. If she did nothing, the table would cast off the ruby’s Tone, returning to its natural state. However,
Jasnah refused to let that happen—she pushed, hearing and remembering
the ruby’s Tone in her mind, forcing the table’s Tone to change, to become a uniform note instead of a chord.
It had been years since she had Awakened, and her abilities were weak.
She strained against the table’s Tone, the departed ruby’s note hanging and vibrating in her mind. For a moment, she could see beyond the table’s form.
She glimpsed past sight, feeling the table’s pure substance— the lhel, from which all things were created.
The lhel of the table pushed against her; she pushed back, forcing its Tone to change and match that of the ruby.
The wood became fire. It didn’t burn, like a blaze started from logs,
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 287
but was immediately Remade into flame. The table exploded with a large
roaring sound, a blossom of fire illuminating the room, throwing heat
against Jasnah’s face, scarring the stone walls with black soot.
Then the flame was gone. She could hear Nelshenden whispering a
prayer to the Almighty. The prisoner was crying. Jasnah’s soul chord
vibrated erratically, sending a shiver of pain through her body. The force with which she had pushed against the table returned upon her, and for a
brief moment, her own Tone threatened to change and become like that
of the ruby. Jasnah had to seize her Tone quickly, holding it stable, forcing it back toward regularity.
She took a few deep breaths. “Nelshenden,” she finally said. “Another
gemstone. A ruby, if you have one.”
Nelshenden was lethargic, but he eventually complied, pulling out
another fifty-Ishmark gem. Jasnah gritted her teeth, still fighting to keep her Tone stable.
I’d forgotten how hard this was, Jasnah thought. Her very bones seemed to vibrate, send
ing pain through her body. If she released control, her
lhel would adopt the note she had just Awakened—and she herself would disappear in a burst of flame.
“I undertook the Charan,” the prisoner sobbed. “You can’t affect me with Awakening.”
“That’s what we tell you,” Jasnah said, holding forth the ruby again.
“I’m just a scratch,” the man said. “They didn’t even tell me who the hit
was until this afternoon! They left an hour ago, told me to watch the
building and report if anyone came looking for them. Honestly, I don’t
know anything.”
Clenching her jaw against the pain and the danger, Jasnah stroked the
second ruby. It began to glow.
“That’s all I know!” the man promised. “They hired me about a month
ago. All they did was look around the city, get to know the layout of the
castle. The first time we did anything was last night.”
“What did you do?” Jasnah demanded.
“We hit a group of men traveling to the city,” the man said. “I just
stood watch—they did the killing. I didn’t know they were Shardbearers!
Honestly!”
“Shardbearers?” Jasnah asked, surprised, lowering the gemstone. It
popped ineffectually, spraying her hand with red dust.
The man nodded in his bonds, eyes closed, shivering slightly as he wept.
“Took them in their sleep. Two of them, with their guards. We buried the
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guards, but they took the bodies of the noblemen. I don’t know what they
wanted with them.”
Two Shardbearers. “Where was the group you attacked traveling from?”
“Crossguard,” the man whispered.
“By the winds . . .” Jasnah said, spinning toward her two stunned guard
captains. “You two, wake up! Worry about my Awakening later.”
Nelshenden shook his head, coming out of his stupor, regarding her with
eyes that were alarmingly distrustful.
“Two Shardbearers, Nelshenden!” Jasnah said. “From Crossguard. The
assassins killed Jezenrosh’s delegation and took its place! They replaced his Shardbearers with two young men who could claim to have been elevated
so recently that no one in court would recognize them.”
“By the Almighty!” Kemnar exclaimed.
“That’s where the rumors of Jezenrosh’s plotting came from!” Jasnah
Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01] Page 40
